


Sustaining Hope Revisited

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-08
Updated: 2008-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set in the not-so-distant future, five years or so, but hopefully a completely imaginary one. A version of this was written for <a href="http://angiepen.livejournal.com/"><b>angiepen</b></a> in the <a href="http://slashababy.livejournal.com/"><b>slashababy</b></a> fic exchange.  I found myself heading toward a death fic and turned it into a happy ending.  But I believe the entire piece would have hung together much better if it continued along to the horribly depressing conclusion.  I completely understand if you pass this one by (on any other day I'd be right there with you *g*).  I'm sure the writing gets fuzzier as this goes along because I had the most terrible time writing this.  Now I know why I never tried to write this kind of story before.  If you'd prefer to read the version with a happy ending, you can find it <a><b>here</b></a>.</p><p><b>Personal request:</b> This was incredibly difficult for me to write.  I've never written a story with character death, I don't read it, and when I'm surprised with a character death in a story I am sad for days.  I have literally depressed myself finishing this ending, but this is the way the story was going before I took a 180-degree turn.  You've already clicked through despite the warning so please leave a quick comment to let me know what you think.  Any little thing will help me get out of the funk I've put myself in.  Thank you.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sustaining Hope Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the not-so-distant future, five years or so, but hopefully a completely imaginary one. A version of this was written for [**angiepen**](http://angiepen.livejournal.com/) in the [**slashababy**](http://slashababy.livejournal.com/) fic exchange. I found myself heading toward a death fic and turned it into a happy ending. But I believe the entire piece would have hung together much better if it continued along to the horribly depressing conclusion. I completely understand if you pass this one by (on any other day I'd be right there with you *g*). I'm sure the writing gets fuzzier as this goes along because I had the most terrible time writing this. Now I know why I never tried to write this kind of story before. If you'd prefer to read the version with a happy ending, you can find it **here**.
> 
>  **Personal request:** This was incredibly difficult for me to write. I've never written a story with character death, I don't read it, and when I'm surprised with a character death in a story I am sad for days. I have literally depressed myself finishing this ending, but this is the way the story was going before I took a 180-degree turn. You've already clicked through despite the warning so please leave a quick comment to let me know what you think. Any little thing will help me get out of the funk I've put myself in. Thank you.

Viggo groaned as he realized Henry wasn't home and he'd have to get the phone himself. Today had been particularly difficult, the pain seeming to radiate from his bones and seep throughout his body. Ordinarily he'd just let the machine pick up, but he was expecting a call from his mother and he didn't want her to worry. Clenching his jaw, he rolled onto his side, straining to reach across his body to pick up the receiver. He couldn't help but smile as Sean's soft accent soothed across the line, easing the lingering pain in his limbs.

From the beginning Viggo thought this was a battle he would have to fight on his own. And the loneliness that engendered colored his perceptions of everyone around him, made it difficult to objectively predict how they would react. Because of this, he never intended on telling Sean he was sick, that he was dying. Yet when he heard the smooth baritone on the phone, when Sean said he had been worried and wanted to know if everything was ok ... somehow knowing Sean had sensed that all was not well with him made Viggo incapable of hiding the truth.

Sean felt his world drop from beneath his feet. He had felt for some time that he needed to get in touch with Viggo. From some random publicity photograph he happened to see in the paper, to this gnawing sensation in his gut every night for the past couple of weeks. Everything was making him uneasy and pushing him toward finally picking up the phone. But this; this was not what he was expecting to hear. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to regain his balance, before speaking. They covered the basics first: When was he diagnosed? Had he gotten a second opinion? But Sean couldn't avoid the one question that kept tearing through his skull, the one thing that both hurt and scared him the most. Why hadn't Viggo told him?

Viggo patiently answered all of Sean's questions but pulled up short with the last. There was nothing he could say to that, no response that would both make sense and keep himself safe. So he quietly apologized and admitted he didn't really know, hoping that would be enough to quell the pain he could hear on the edges of Sean's voice. Whether it worked or not, he wasn't sure. Nevertheless Sean continued, turning the conversation toward their lives. They talked for hours without ever reminiscing, simply catching up from when they'd last talked, letting subjects roll together on the slightly off kilter stream of conscience only they seemed to ever understand.

Before hanging up, Sean said "see you soon," and Viggo smiled at what he thought was the hopeful sentiment behind the words. He should have expected this reaction from Sean. Sad and concerned, yes; but completely unfazed and without a trace of embarrassment or pity. Viggo felt a peace he hadn't experienced in a long time. He truly was blessed to have friends like Sean, to have a strong, giving and open-minded son and a life filled with unique experiences. Even so, all he could focus on were the things he'd never be able to do and everything he never had the chance or the guts to say. He had started recording tapes for Henry the moment the last doctor told him there was little to no hope of him ever recovering. But he still mourned, missing all the special moments in his son's life that were yet to come. He didn't think he'd be a man who died with regrets, but with only a few months left he realized that he had them in spades. And that made him even sadder than he could ever imagine.

Of course the ever-present 800-pound guerilla in the room was always Sean. Almost from day one there had been something between them, a tangible awareness that neither would actually deny but also weren't willing to look at too closely. Viggo laid his head back on the couch and breathed deeply through the pain that came more frequently every day. Could he finally remove the blinders that kept the obvious from his view? And if he did would Sean be able to acknowledge it, accept it, reciprocate it?

# # #

The next few days were like any other, except he had the added pleasure of receiving e-mails from Sean at least twice a day. Mostly silly notes, random thoughts he wanted to share or ideas he hoped to discuss. It was the connection Viggo missed the most after filming ended, the casual yet powerful intimacy they had built and that he shared with no one else. He sat at the kitchen table pushing his breakfast around the plate, wondering why it had been so easy for them to turn that bond into something less substantial. Could it have been a deliberate decision on both their parts? If they had kept that spark alive would it have become impossible to deny the deeper feelings between them?

The doorbell rang and Viggo welcomed the interruption of his thoughts. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, momentarily leaning on the table until the slight dizziness passed before heading for the door. The last thing he expected to see was Sean, and he stood gaping for what seemed like minutes before Sean's engaging laugh woke him up. He let his friend in the house and was pulled into a warm hug, almost too strong for the pain in his joints, but he relished it and didn't want to let go.

Sean couldn't help but feel a small victory at having successfully surprised Viggo. He had been able to pull pranks, to shock his friend with unexpected revelations, but had never truly surprised him. The joy, however, was tempered with concern seeing Viggo so thin and pale. It was probably the pallor of his skin and the dimmed light in his eyes that worried Sean the most, but he kept a smile on his face, not wanting to dampen the mood of this reunion. Almost as soon as Sean heard the news, he knew he would do everything possible to get to Viggo. He had heard the sadness in Viggo's voice, the almost remorseful tone that there were things left undone and he wasn't sure he had strength left to do them. Combined with Sean's own regret at never finding the courage to tell Viggo he loved him, there had never been any question that he would do whatever it took to get here, taking only a few days to rearrange his schedule and put prior commitments on hold.

What amazed Viggo the most was he sensed no sympathy from Sean. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to feel sorry for him, and true to form Sean didn't disappoint. However, Sean's proposition did amaze him. Sean had never been one to really enjoy spontaneity. He wasn't pedantic or dull; he just liked a little order in his life. Yet here he was with nothing but a backpack and a smile suggesting an unplanned trip to do whatever Viggo wanted for as long as he wanted.

He knew it would be against his doctors' advice, knew it could shorten the time he had left. But death was inevitable, whether healthy or not, and Sean's presence and the need to exorcise his remaining demons set Viggo in motion. He called Henry and talked things through, needing to know it was ok with him before making another move. Then he called the rest of his family, appreciating their concerns but knowing he wouldn't be swayed by them. The next couple of days were spent getting the remains of Viggo's life in order, making sure phone numbers were exchanged all around and precautions taken to make sure the trip would be as comfortable as possible for Viggo. Finally, with only their first destination in mind, Viggo walked out his door, unsure if he'd ever step inside again but suddenly sanguine at that possibility.

# # #

They began by revisiting familiar faces and places, then started on a seemingly endless and arbitrary list of locations. Throughout their wanderings, Henry had met up with them a few times, and Sean had given father and son the space they needed to just be in each other's company, taking the time to manage personal business and call his girls, making sure they knew how much he loved them.

After the first month the pace became less frenetic, less urgent, and they ambled from place to place as whim and inspiration hit them. So much of their time was spent simply talking or quietly sitting together, letting themselves process and absorb, wordlessly strengthen and support. Each wrote and sketched, explored ideas and composed music. And they laughed - long and hard, soft and wistful - ever mindful of the need to acknowledge the joy all around them. All the while they rediscovered themselves together, marveling at how much more there was left to share in a friendship that had always felt deep and bountiful.

Before they knew it, the amount of time the doctors had estimated he'd have to live had come and gone and deep down both hoped that was a good sign, that maybe a corner had been turned and while Viggo still looked and felt the same perhaps he was actually on the mend. They were in Sean's home in London when they finally decided it was worth the risk to take the long trip to New Zealand. They had avoided going knowing how strenuous it would be to get there and how difficult to get back should they need to leave in a hurry. But now it seemed time to revisit the place where so many lives changed, to finally go back to where everything had begun.

They stopped in Los Angeles for a few days on the way, the latest in a series of return trips they had made during their travels together. Viggo saw both Henry and Chris, but they deliberately chose not to see any specialists. They preferred holding onto their unscientific belief that Viggo was getting better, preferred their faith to possibly contrary test results.

When they finally landed in Wellington, Viggo seemed more drawn than normal, but after a day of rest was ready to find their old haunting grounds and see their friends. At first they stayed close to Wellington and Queenstown, then without speaking a word both came to the same decision. It took a little time to find the exact spot where Boromir's final scene had been filmed, but once there Viggo felt the years slide away, stripping him bare and loosening the final bands of disease around his heart. Finally they stood in the forest where Viggo remembered coming alive for the first time, and also the place of his biggest regret.

He turned to look at Sean who was leaning against a tree, his head tilted up looking into the canopy of leaves above them. Viggo felt that familiar pull, the want and love that he had never allowed himself to express. But now, now it might feel superficial to Sean, a forced deathbed confession with no substance. Yet there it was, strong and undeniable. He had always wanted Sean, had been in love with him for years, and now could be the last chance he'd ever have to at least just tell him. Maybe that would be enough, could let him finally be at peace with the choices he had made in his life.

Sean felt Viggo's eyes on him and smiled, turning to look at his friend. Viggo could only stare, could only stand and hope to find the words that would make everything clear and real. But the words wouldn't come so he simply held Sean's gaze, feeling that somehow Sean would understand as he always did, would know what Viggo longed to express but couldn't find the way to say it. Sean had been feeling the emotions between them for many weeks, now intensified in this sacred place, and saw the love clearly in Viggo's eyes. Maybe they were both ready to finally bring to life what had lived only in dreams for all these years. He reached for Viggo, holding his hand firmly as they hiked to the car and the long drive back to the hotel.

Once there, it was as if all of Viggo's energy left him in a rush. Almost instantly Viggo was fading before his eyes and Sean only just succeeded in not panicking. Tears fell from Viggo's eyes in anger and frustration. They were so close, so near to finally giving voice to hidden desires, and now all he could do was fight to keep some semblance of consciousness for Sean's sake, seeing the distress in his eyes and needing to do anything he could to alleviate it.

Sean hadn't had to take care of Viggo during their entire time together, but quickly took action, working to make Viggo as comfortable as possible. He gave him his medication, bundled him in thick sweaters and warm quilts, and cradled him in his arms, watching over his fitful sleep. They had held each other like this many times before, but now the urgency didn't escape him. Finality surrounded them and he tried to free more space in his mind to hold every memory firmly in place. Sean willed his brain to keep a tight grip on each moment, every word ever said, every glance and touch. He couldn't forget, not this time, because if he did he was afraid he'd lose himself too.

In the morning, some of Viggo's strength had returned but it was evident that now was the time to leave. Sean didn't have to be told, could see the fear in Viggo's eyes. He couldn't be across the world in the end; he needed to get home. Both summoned every ounce of acting prowess they had and cashed in favors they never thought they'd use to get themselves back to Los Angeles on the first flight out that day.

# # #

When he was finally home, Viggo seemed to deflate even more. Sean wondered how someone so vibrant and alive could now seem so small, almost diaphanous. Viggo wouldn't go to the hospital, needing to be surrounded by those people and things he loved. Sean understood but also wondered if perhaps something more could be done for him at a hospital, maybe prolong his life by a few more weeks. He wasn't ready to let go, wasn't ready to lose what he felt in many ways he had only just found. But he wouldn't argue and gave way to Viggo's family, letting them care for and love their father, brother, son. But he was never further than a few rooms away at any given time, unable to actually leave.

Over the next few days, members of the Fellowship made their way to Viggo's home. Sean and Viggo had seen most of them during their travels, but still their friends dropped what they were doing and came to say their goodbyes. Sean expected it, knew Viggo was happy to see them all, but still in some ways he resented them taking even more time away from his own precious moments with Viggo. A couple of days later he finally gave Viggo the package his girls had prepared the last time he and Viggo were in London, the letters and keepsakes he had promised to pass on should the time come. Somehow that simple act felt like a nail in Viggo's coffin, and he found himself irrationally upset at his children for giving up on the man he loved.

Viggo could sense Sean's tension, his discomfiture and agitation at both needing to say goodbye but not wanting to actually say the words. Despite everything he was going through, he needed to comfort Sean, to give him as much as he was getting in return. He could always tell that Sean was close, often unable to sleep peacefully unless Sean was in the room. His love for his best friend seemed to grow as his own heart seemed to weaken even further, yet still he couldn't speak the words he had wanted to say for years, to finally express every desire and emotion that settled around them, holding them securely in its brilliant embrace.

Over the last few months he had managed to get his feelings down on paper, through words and drawings and photographs. He sealed it all in a large envelope, hoping that if he finally lost this fight Sean would have something to hold onto, something tangible to see and touch so he'd never doubt how much he had been loved. He asked Henry to give Sean the envelope after his funeral, still not willing to admit defeat, not wanting to say "I love you" while in decline but not ready to accept that there wasn't going to be another chance in this life. Just as Sean couldn't bring himself to say goodbye, to give up that last bit of hope he still held firmly inside, Viggo still believed too, wondered if their joint belief could actually see him through in spite of all evidence to the contrary.

During the day Sean struggled to hang on to his faith, his trust that Viggo could do anything he set his mind to. But sleep brought all his doubts and worries to the surface. In Sean's dream Viggo's shoulders were broad and muscled, and he wielded a sword against an unseen enemy. Although he started strong, every minute he seemed to tire, until his foe began to get the upper hand. Just as a deadly blow headed for Viggo's chest, Sean shook himself awake, pain trailing up his neck from being slumped over in the chair by Viggo's bed. He looked at Viggo, how lost he looked amidst all the coverlets and quilts, and as always began searching for the rise and fall of his chest, not able to turn away until the weak movement finally caught his eye. A hoarse whisper startled him, and he looked up to find Viggo awake, watching him. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, carefully tucking in errant corners to make sure a stray breeze wouldn't cool Viggo's thin skin, now stretched too tight across weakened muscle and bone.

Viggo woke to find Sean keeping watch over him, and knew with sudden clarity that they needed to talk. But the more he tried to get Sean's full attention, the more frustrated he became. Any other day Sean's fussing would be comforting, even slightly amusing, but he was so intent on soothing Viggo back to sleep he wasn't listening and Viggo feared he was running out of time to finally tell Sean how much he was loved. Viggo tapped the last of his fire and determination from almost barren reserves and took hold of Sean's sleeve with a tightly clenched fist, willing him to listen and understand.

All these years they could have spent loving each other, nurturing and enriching a bond made all the stronger for their abiding friendship. But rather than wishing they could retrace steps long ago eroded by time, they concentrated on this moment of shared breaths and confessions of love. No regrets, no looking back. A promise made to live on, to not let sorrow rule the remainder of a beautiful life. Tears, both bitter and freeing, were shed quietly into the stillness of the room. After a few minutes Viggo drifted back to sleep, safe in Sean's arms and secure in his love.

# # #

Sean re-read the poem for what seemed like the hundredth time then carefully folded the paper and slipped it back in its envelope. He sat on a hill above Viggo's ranch looking down at the house. The clouds hung low in the sky, and Sean almost felt if he stretched up high he could touch the wisps as they passed overhead. A breeze redolent with pine and straw ruffled his hair, and he looked up at the distant tree line, smiling softly at the beauty and peace all around him.

Several months had passed and all of Viggo's affairs had been put in order. Sean hadn't had to do much; Viggo's brothers carried the brunt of that burden with Henry. He almost felt useless and in the way, suddenly uncomfortable in the home he had long wished they could have shared together. Taking refuge in a nearby hotel, he became a kind of de facto liaison with the Fellowship, passing on information and keeping track of travel plans. The unexpected arrival of Lorna and Molly shook Sean to the core and he broke down, unashamed to let his children see him vulnerable for the first time in their lives. Their presence kept him whole, kept him from shattering into fragments too ragged to fit together again.

The day after the services, Henry gave Sean a package, a large envelope packed so tightly it could barely be sealed. It was a final gift from Viggo, something to hold onto with hands now bereft of their one true love. Without Viggo in it, LA felt cold and lifeless and Sean couldn't open the package there. Yet the idea of bringing it back to his home also didn't feel right. So when the girls boarded a plane for London, Sean took a detour to Idaho.

Except for a week during their travels together, Sean had never spent time with Viggo at the ranch. Yet Sean could feel him everywhere, even along wooded trails and ridges overlooking the vast open country that surrounded Viggo's home. After picking up the keys, he first stopped by the barn and immediately could tell the horses knew Viggo wasn't returning, their unnatural stillness almost a memorial to their beloved human. He leaned against the wooden corral for a few minutes trying to steady his nerves. Finally he headed for the house, now cold after too many months since windows had been opened to the sun or the rooms filled with Viggo's immeasurable light.

Sean checked the flue and lit a fire in the stone hearth, then settled down in front of the couch and opened the envelope. Half a day passed before he made it through every carefully crafted message, the floor around him covered with pages of poetry, drawings and sketches. He had taken the time to absorb every word, every color, every line. With the package now empty, he leaned back against the sofa and wept, inconsolable, until his grief pulled him into a deep sleep.

He woke to the chirp of his cell phone, the room almost completely dark save for some dwindling embers in the hearth. Afraid to accidentally step on any of his treasures, he pushed up onto the couch, and groped for the lamp, blinding himself as it sprung to life. The air had grown frigid and Sean's skin felt numb beneath his fingers. He looked around him at Viggo's final declaration of love and felt himself sink further into despair. His mind's eye could only see this moment in time, this moment when all dreams were lost, crushed under the unforgiving dirt that covered Viggo's grave.

The mechanical beep of his phone broke into his spiraling thoughts, and blindly he reached for it, pushed the button to hear the message. Evie's voice, pure and clear and so alive, reached across the miles in a rambling message for her father, full of life and teenage drama, but with an undercurrent of concern and care that Sean could hear with crystal clarity. He replayed the message several times, then called each of his girls in turn, whether waking them up or interrupting activities he didn't know and they didn't care. Hanging up he wasn't yet convinced his world would go on, but he knew he would try if for no other reason than his children. He stared at his clasped hands and made a silent vow to honor Viggo's life by living his with the same integrity and spirit.

Now he sat overlooking Viggo's ranch, clutching the envelope tight to his chest. He would come back here one day, come back when the pain was not so fresh, when he could breathe the air and not feel a million spikes of anguish pierce his lungs. For now he had to become a father once more, had to return to his life and begin putting the pieces back together into a new configuration, a new shape only Viggo would be able to see. Yes he'd mourn, but he'd also hold tight to the words they shared, the time they had been able to spend together, and to final confessions of love that weren't too late to be revered. He would nurture them, let them grow in his heart until everything cold and numb was replaced with warmth and joy and endless beauty.


End file.
